To them I turned me, and, “O people, certain,” Began I, “of beholding the high light, Which your desire has solely in its care, So may grace speedily dissolve the scum Upon your consciences, that limpidly Through them descend the river of the mind, Tell me, for dear ’twill be to me and gracious, If any soul among you here is Latian, 769 And ’twill perchance be good for him I learn it.” “O brother mine, each one is citizen Of one true city; but thy meaning is, Who may have lived in Italy a pilgrim.” By way of answer this I seemed to hear A little farther on than where I stood, Whereat I made myself still nearer heard. Among the rest I saw a shade that waited In aspect, and should anyone ask how, Its chin it lifted upward like a blind man. “Spirit,” I said, “who stoopest to ascend, If thou art he who did reply to me, Make thyself known to me by place or name.” “Sienese was I,” it replied, “and with The others here recleanse my guilty life,